


Jaskier's Triumphant Performance

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: How about one where the reader writes a song about "Jaskier's Triumphant Performance" except its literally just a raunchy song about how good he is in bed, and shes singing it to a crowded room to embarrass him
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	Jaskier's Triumphant Performance

His first mistake was performing that damned song.

He’d written an especially bawdy tune about a memorable trip the two of you had taken in a wagon, finding clever new rhymes for “involuntary physical reaction” and “fucking bitch” that somehow managed to be as sweet as it was deeply dirty. You’d vowed revenge and then you’d waited, writing and plotting and letting time pass so he’d forget his grievous offense.

His second mistake was teaching you to play the lute.

You’d spent many evenings in each other’s arms with the instrument. He thought you’d taken an interest in it as an excuse to spend more time with him, never knowing that this was just an extra perk. The true motivation was vengeance.

His third mistake was leaving his lute on the table that night.

You saw the instrument and you sprang, pulling it into your arms and heading to the middle of the floor resolutely.

“Ladies and gents and travelers near and far,” you called, projecting your voice over the din of the tavern. “I have a special performance for you tonight. A new song, a tale of adoration for a man you may know. May I present Jaskier’s Triumphant Performance!”

The poor fool smiled delightedly and clapped, surprised but happy. And then his smile wavered a little, discomfited by the predatory grin you shot his way as you strummed the lute.

“ _Don’t go with a bard, my girl, my mother said to me_

_For he will taunt and tease and charm and use you most cruelly_

_Well mother dear I hate to spurn your words so sweetly pled_

_But I cannot regret the night I took Jaskier a-bed_ ”

Jaskier’s face went pale and you stomped in time with the beat of your song. To his great humiliation the rest of the inn joined in, clapping and stomping and urging you onward.

“ _The nimble minstrel fingers did so swiftly rend my dress_

_Before his mouth e’en headed south I was an aching mess_

_His kisses hungrily did crawl across my tender skin_

_And it took all my nerve and gall to tame the beast within_ ”

Jaskier shook his head slowly at you, trying to shrink in his seat while the tavern cheered for more.

“ _His hands and mouth I’ve duly praised but we know there’s a part_

_I have not named though it did maim my nethers and my heart_

_He rises splendid like a tower jutting from the dirt_

_I can’t describe the way I sighed when it went up my skirt_ ”

A few patrons sitting near Jaskier clapped him on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner and he gave a weak wave, eyes shooting daggers at you.

“ _Don’t let his fancy garb disguise the burly man beneath_

_Nor trousers loosely swaying make you think he’s quick to sheath_

_For every part’s a work of art and bless’d I held the brush_

_Overpower’d by his gifts I’m now a love drunk lush_ ”

You watched Jaskier rise from his seat and try to hurry out discreetly though his movement was met with cheers and joking (you thought) requests to take lessons.

“ _Don’t go with a bard, my girl, my mother tried to warn_

_And though I love her dearly her words were met with quick scorn_

_I do not perjure myself by adding that his skill_

_For deep, long strokes and well-aimed pokes don’t stop at his quill_.”

You gave a final, mighty strum of the lute and then took a bow to applause Jaskier would have killed to receive, quickly running to find the bard you’d angered. You caught up to him in the room where he stood with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot impatiently.

“You!” he declared, pointing at you sternly, only growing more incensed as you giggled. “That was above and beyond what I did!”

“Well actually if you listened carefully to my song you’ll find going above and beyond is sort of your thing,” you teased. He sputtered angrily and then fixed you with a menacing glare.

“Right,” he said through tight lips and then, again, “Right.”

“Are you awfully mad?” you asked, fluttering your eyelashes at him innocently. He glowered and moved closer, backing you up against the wall.

“Oh I will show you exactly how I feel about your little display,” he said, the words terse and spoken in a low growl. “Please do,” you said, “I could always do for a sequel.”

The feral glint in his eyes scared and thrilled you in equal measure and by the end of the night you had enough material for a series of sonnets and an operetta.


End file.
